


I Can Feel You (behind my eyes)

by FaeryQueen07



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Implied Incest, Implied Raleigh Becket/Yancy Becket - Freeform, Implied Relationships, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain thrums through his veins, stealing him back whenever he drifts too close towards consciousness. He can't help but shy away from the threatening press of reality, from what awaits him when he finally resurfaces. His mind is a relentless ache that cannot be soothed; a continuous, threadbare stream of <i>YancyYancyYancy</i> that echos through his very bones, hollow. There's another voice there, too, softer than his own, but just as desperate, and it repeats back to him—a mirror of his own thoughts: <i>RaleighRaleighRaleigh</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Feel You (behind my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for future parts on the assumption they'll be posted. Unbeta'd. The title comes from the song _Bloodstream_ , by Stateless.

Pain thrums through his veins, stealing him back whenever he drifts too close towards consciousness. He can't help but shy away from the threatening press of reality, from what awaits him when he finally resurfaces. His mind is a relentless ache that cannot be soothed; a continuous, threadbare stream of _YancyYancyYancy_ that echos through his very bones, hollow. There's another voice there, too, softer than his own, but just as desperate, and it repeats back to him—a mirror of his own thoughts: _RaleighRaleighRaleigh_. It gets louder the longer he stays locked inside himself, until, unable to fight any longer, he breaks his silence with one shuddering sob. 

“ _Yancy_!”

“He's waking up! Get the doctor!”

Hands grasp at him, pushing him down when he would rise, digging bruises into his skin the more he struggles. His left side is on fire, and when he opens his eyes, there are too many faces hovering over his, none the one he wants to see most.

“Yancy,” Raleigh pleads. He needs his brother, needs to see none of it was real, that it was all just a terrible nightmare.

“Mr. Becket, we need you to calm down. Stay with us. His blood pressure is dropping. Nurse!”

None of the voices are right. Stiff, formal and demanding. There's no tease, no smirk to any of the tones and he tries desperately to escape the wrongness of it all. He snarls viciously when someone opens his right eye all the way and shines a line into it.

_RaleighRaleighRaleigh_

“Yancy. Yance, please.”

“He's not cognizant, doctor. If he keeps this up, he'll reopen his wounds.”

There's a pause, then a sharp prick and a sudden pressure that sends all the faces and voices spiraling away.

_Raleigh, kiddo, I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry. Hang in there, baby bro._

Raleigh chokes on a sob and succumbs to the blackness pulling at him.

*.*.*.*

“Ranger Becket, it's good to see you awake and alert this morning.”

Raleigh stares back at the man speaking. He’s not overly tall, hair a little thin at the top and with a slim build. Wire-rimmed glasses, a sweater-vest over a button-up and khaki slacks. The corner of his mouth twitches down, and Raleigh fights the urge to tell the man where to take his psychology degree and good intent. He's caught Raleigh on a good day, unfortunately. One in which Raleigh is certain of the facts, knows he's not losing mind.

“Right then. The doctors here have been evaluating your progress over the last three months. Almost three weeks in a coma with erratic brain activity due to extreme neural overload.” He glances at his notes and falls further into the routine of the others, stating facts Raleigh is already aware of. His tone is one of mild condescension. “They were perplexed to say the least. It took some convincing to have you released back to the PPDC, and already you've scared off several of my colleagues. I understand this is hard for you, Ranger Becket. Just consider this another duty to your nation and I am certain you will find it easier to meet your obligations.”

Raleigh's back stiffens at that. He clenches his jaw, refusing to give this man anything more than he gave the other doctors who poked and prodded at his mind and body—nothing. He waits, and after an uncomfortable beat, the man goes for a fake-cheerful smile and clears his throat.

“Right. Now, from my understanding, you were still connected to your brother when he was killed. We've had instances of single-pilot deaths before, but none with quite so strong and deep bond, and none still connected. If you don't mind, I would like to conduct a few tests, to get a better understanding of the extent of consequences from such a... parting.”

“You want to know what's going on in my head, doc?” Raleigh leans forward, inwardly pleased at the way doctor leans back. “My goddamn brother is in my head.”

The doctor laughs, high and nervous. “Yes, well, you _were_ in a coma for a month. I suppose it's conceivable that some of your brother's memories are still lingering, ghosts, as you might call them.”

“You know damn well that isn't what I mean.” Raleigh has said this before, to the last three doctors, and he's getting sick of the condescension and disbelief.

 _:As far as they know, Rals, this is impossible.:_ Yancy's voice is both soothing and chiding all at once, as much a conundrum as his very existence inside Raleigh's head.

“Ten years ago, the Drift was impossible,” Raleigh snaps back.

The doctor startles a little at the outburst, his gaze shifting around the room. “Um, yes, that's true. And since its conception, many more advances have been made.”

Raleigh huffs, makes a rude noise in the back of his throat and slumps down in his seat. No one believes him. No one has even made a cursory attempt at pretending to listen to him. They ask him questions, and when his answers don't fit with what they want to hear, they shuffle him off to another facility in another state for more tests and more questions. He wonders what they'll do when they run out, where they'll send him then.

Images from movies and television shows he watched as a kid cycle through his mind, of men and women locked up, confined. Cells with padding on the walls, beds with straps, machines meant to shock coherence into their victims. 

“I'm not—I'm not fucking crazy!”

The statement has the unsurprising effect of causing the doctor to purse his lips. “Yes, well, that's—you're not really in a position to make that kind of diagnosis, are you, Mr. Becket? You suffered severe emotional, mental and physical trauma, with unpleasant if not unsurprising consequences: recalcitrant behavior; fits of violence directed towards yourself; conversations with yourself; lack of desire to undergo treatment. I'd say that, at the very least, you are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Now, because you are a Ranger with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps—”

“I quit.”

For one long, breathless minute, the doctor blinks at him, taken aback. “I—pardon me?”

Raleigh scrubs his hands over the tops of his thighs. “I said I quit. I'm sick of your goddamn questions, and I can already tell you this: whatever it is they want you to do, whatever it is they're expecting you to say, I don't care. I'm not getting into another Jaeger again. I should have died with my brother, but instead, I'm stuck here with—” _With Yancy haunting my mind, trapped inside me because you guys fucked up. Because_ I _fucked up... and got him killed._

He doesn't say the rest though, because he's done trying to tell them this. The first month awake, Raleigh had thought he was going insane. Yancy hadn't been much better, and it wasn't until Raleigh's initial transfer to a PPDC facility that he began to make sense of it. Ghost Drifting took on a whole new meaning to him, but try as he might, he couldn't make anyone else take him seriously. They thought it was just another symptom, a sign that the Drift sucked away the sanity of those who visited it and stayed in it too often.

“Ranger Becket—”

“That's enough, Doctor Latimer. Thank you for your time.”

Raleigh smirks at the way the doctor jumps at the interruption. In the time Raleigh has known him, Marshal Pentecost always moved like a ninja, a talent that has only gotten better with time. The doctor splutters a little, but takes the dismissal to heart, giving Raleigh one last regretful head shake.

“I want out.”

“Ranger, I understand what you're going through, and you have my condolences—”

Standing, Raleigh crosses to the room, not trusting himself to be within touching distance of the Marshal.

“I beg to differ, Sir. There's no way you could possibly understand what I'm going through. Your co-pilot had a seizure and disconnected.” He shifts, his left side aching, his arm going numb suddenly like it does every so often now. “I want out, and I want the PPDC to stop trying to contact me.”

There's a long sigh, and when Marshal Pentecost finally speaks, there's an air of resignation to his tone. “You will, of course, need to sign confidentiality waivers. Yes, I recall you signed some prior to entering the program. These are explicit as to anything even remotely pertaining to your brother's death and the incident at the Anchorage Shatterdome.” His next words are colder, more calculated. “These are, of course, precautions for protecting not only the PPDC, but yourself as well. You disobeyed a direct order, Ranger, and the result was catastrophic to say the least. I don't have to explain to you why we would want to keep this information from the media.”

The full weight of the accusation lands on Raleigh's shoulders and his legs start to give out. The only things keeping him up are the tight grip he has on the window sill and Yancy's voice, calm and steady in the back of his head.

_:I was in that Conn-Pod too, Ray. I made the same damn choice and in the end, we saved lives that day. I can't regret that, even though I regret leaving you. But I'm still here, Raleigh, and we don't need the PPDC, not if they're going to turn a deliberate blind eye on what's going on.:_

“I'll sign the damn waivers,” Raleigh says at last.

He's still standing there when the door closes, and as Raleigh continues to stare out the window, blind with relief, Yancy says,

_:We'll be okay, baby bro. You and me, we got this. Whatever the hell 'this' is. We'll be okay. I won't leave you.:_

“Can't,” Raleigh corrects. “You can't leave me. Not anymore.

The words hold not even the promise of comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a whole story to this and maybe, if I can cut out at least half the unnecessary angst, it'll all eventually get posted...


End file.
